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“What the hell,” Connor said. “Which?”
“The museum.”
“We haven’t started any work there except marking out the space,” Connor continued.
“Thankfully, they couldn’t do much more than childish pranks with silly signs and trash. Can you stop by there this morning, Con? We’re starting renovations on the mini-golf site this morning, and I need to be there,” Jason said.
“Sure, no problem. I’ll go before I head over to Abby’s. Need a couple hours to finish the floor before the furniture can be put in place,” Connor said.
“This vandalism is becoming a problem,” Evan said. “It started with the break-in during the Erickson Pier reno, then the mini-golf, and now this.”
“I talked with Ethan about that last night. It’s not only our properties. There’s been a couple of incidents at Harrison’s and a few other places,” Jason said.
“Spreading the love,” Connor said. “Stupid-ass punks.”
“Do the cops have a suspect?” Jenna said.
“Maybe, but Ethan can’t tell us who,” Jason said.
“You think we should install cameras like we did at the pier?” Connor asked.
“May be a good idea,” Jason said.
“Tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of it,” Jenna added, making notes on her iPad.
“Will do,” Jason said.
“In other business, I should have a decent draft of the Dunes property by the end of the day,” Evan said.
The Dunes was what they’d named the area they were going to renovate in their old neighborhood. Hurricane Samantha had ravaged the entire area, and it needed a serious overhaul. They’d kicked around several possibilities, and Evan, as their contracted-out architect, was putting together a couple of options.
“Perfect. Let’s review them at tomorrow morning’s meeting,” Jason said. “Assuming we start on time.”
“Do you hear something, Ev? I hear an annoying sound,” Connor said, rising and grabbing another donut.
“I hear it too, but can’t make it out,” Evan agreed.
They all laughed and headed their separate ways.
Jason caught up with him. “You want to meet up here at six, before driving over to Dad’s place?”
Connor had forgotten today was the day he and Jason had dinner at their dad’s apartment. Since reuniting with him a couple of months ago, after his release from prison, they’d started weekly dinners to work on their relationship.
Not the most exciting of nights, but they’d promised their mom, who’d been traveling back and forth from Tampa, that they’d put forth the effort. Surprisingly, Allen Maguire had been true to his word and appeared to be clean and sober.
“Sounds like a plan,” Connor said.
After grabbing a few things from his apartment, Connor texted Abby an approximate time he’d be at her shop, and drove to the lighthouse.
Five minutes later, he pulled into the parking area. The lighthouse area didn’t draw the tourist crowd like it once did. The idea of building a museum had been Jason’s. Emma had paintings and photographs she’d done over the past decade. Plus, old pictures she found in the attic of her house. Those, along with other things she was gathering from townspeople, would be displayed to share the history of the town. Combined with the nature trail and enhanced picnic area, it would provide a nice tourist stop.
Connor grabbed a trash bag and pair of work gloves from the bed of the truck and headed to the future site of the museum and nature trail. Trash littered the area that only yesterday he’d marked off with painting spray and string. Now, the string and the sticks lay broken, as though someone had run over them with a bike.
What kind of person thought so little to do this on town property? And was it connected to the other vandalism?
Connor frowned at the words spray-painted in fluorescent orange.
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